Читать книгу Charles Augustus Fenton - Alana Whiting - Страница 6

As I emerged from my sanctuary my parents rejoiced. Their precious son had arrived. My mother grappled me out with her own bare hands, eagerly drawing me near to her bosom. It was only the dour insistence of the midwife that I should be cleaned and wrapped as was proper that allowed her to relinquish me. I was repugnant, covered in white waxen vernix and bellowing to show my discontent at the new wilderness I had been thrust into. My face was contorted and ungraceful, but to my creators I was exquisite.

The midwife neatly removed the slimy coating and swathed me in delicate cloth. I squealed at her most vociferously, demanding my instant return to my former abode. Shackled in such a way I had no choice but to accept her transferring me into the arms of my mother.

My mother lay in what could only be described as the carnage of childbirth. The afterbirth and placental fluid complacently soaking the bedding between her spread legs, made her look like a ravaged Whitechapel whore. She wearily observed the ministrations of the midwife, who, after completing my return to her arms, had now begun on the task of the soiled sheets.

She looked at me as we rolled from side to side, completely absorbed with my newborn essence. She kissed me tenderly and smiled. ‘Your name is Charles Augustus Fenton,’ she whispered into my tiny cockle-shell ear. ‘And you are my beautiful baby son.’ With that, she carefully latched me onto her breast and I sucked with ravenous glee.

The midwife collected the soiled linen and handed it to the housemaid. Together they deftly sponged my mother and replaced her bloodied nightgown. I bawled angrily during the necessary separation between us and refused to be consoled until hurriedly returned to her bosom. My father was only allowed to enter once I was sated and the room thoroughly cleansed to the nurse’s standard. She nodded briefly to my father before leaving them alone.

‘Just look at our darling son, Charles. Isn’t he adorable?’

Charles Senior stared at his fragile bundle lying asleep in his wife’s arms. ‘He is absolutely charming, Elizabeth. You are so very clever. You are the most beautiful, clever wife I know… I love you so much.’

Elizabeth smiled and carefully handed me to my father. He took the proffered bundle with some consternation, which made my mother giggle. As I continued my milk-laden nap, his chest filled with pride at his issue. He finally had a son.